Ballet Shoes for Anna (15 page)

F
RANCESCO WAS SO
full of worries he began to look quite ill. His biggest worry was Gussie, for Wally had told him about his suspicions.

“I know he doesn’t look very nice, but what is it bad that this Wilf is doing?”

Wally tried to explain.

“Nobody outside his gang don’t know nothin’, not for sure, but he’s always givin’ little kids thin’s to sell.”

“In Britain that is wrong?” Francesco asked.

“Course not, if they’re come by honest, but what they say is they’re pinched.” He saw Francesco did not understand. “Stole like.”

Francesco was shocked.

“Stole! To steal is a sin.”

Wally thought he might have exaggerated.

“If not stole they’re come by funny, what’s called rejects from a factory what someone’s got ’old of. Anyway, you don’t want young Gussie mixed up in anything like that.”

Francesco agreed fervently. Too well he knew how easily Gussie might get mixed up in something bad, not because he was bad but because, like Christopher, he liked excitement.

“I do not know what I can do,” he told Wally. “Because I am the eldest, now almost eleven, I can try to look after Gussie and Anna, but it is hard to be Jardek, Babka, Christopher and Olga all together. You see, there is only me now.”

Wally wondered if he should have bothered Francesco.

“I wouldn’t get into a state about it. After all, we don’t know, not for certain, about Wilf’s gang. But it wouldn’t do no ’arm to keep an eye open and if you see young Gussie selling anythin’ then you can do somethin’. Maybe go to the headmaster.”

Go to the headmaster! Francesco classed him with The Uncle. To talk to either was impossible.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said. Then he turned away so that Wally never knew there were tears in Francesco’s eyes.

Then there was Anna. Anna, so good and gentle until there was interference in her dancing. Francesco did not believe that S’William had let them down. Gussie’s idea that he had stolen their picture was fantastic. On the other hand he certainly was being slow coming home.

If only S’William would arrive, Francesco thought, it would be as if a great stone rolled off his back, for S’William
was the kind of man who took charge and saw no difficulties anywhere. Never would Francesco forget the way he had said to Anna: “Nonsense. You can’t live in a hospital tent for ever. You have been given into my charge for the time being and I don’t intend to let you out of my sight until I see you settled.”

Of course, from S’William’s point of view, that was just what had happened. He had found them an uncle and an aunt and they had good clothes and, though often nasty, especially cabbage, plenty to eat. All in fact should have been well. How could S’William know that in their school there would be Wilf and his gang? How could he know that Miss de Veane should wish Anna to dance in public? How could he know the trouble he had caused by writing about Madame Scarletti?

What Francesco supposed had happened was that S’William, for reasons to do with is work, had delayed coming home and, if he thought about them at all, supposed they were safe and well. In any case he might think they were old enough to look after themselves for all their birthdays were near Christmas, which meant he would soon be eleven, Gussie ten and Anna nine. Perhaps in Britain at such ages you were no longer considered a child.

The next Wednesday Anna went to her dancing class with her plans clearly made.

“I shall say nothing,” she promised Francesco, “unless she tries to teach me a dance. Then I shall say ‘no’ – exercises only. I pay so I decide.”

“Try not to finish with Miss de Veane,” Francesco begged. “Some day you shall see this Madame Scarletti, but not now, and in Fyton Miss de Veane is all that there is.”

Outside the studio it was bitterly cold, with a fine stinging rain in the wind. This gave Francesco an idea.

“Perhaps,” he said, “as it is so cold I could come inside.”

Anna was not sure she liked that suggestion.

“It is not a very big studio.”

“But it is so cold,” Francesco pleaded. “Already my teeth knock together.”

Anna was very cold herself but Francesco looked blue, so she relented.

“Come in. I will ask.”

Anna went across the studio and gave her bob.

“Today is so cold,” she said, “is it permitted my brother stays inside while he waits to take me home?”

Miss de Veane gave Anna what was meant to be a friendly smile but actually looked more like the smile the wolf gave Red Riding Hood.

“Of course, dear. Now, hurry away and change for I have something new for you to learn.”

Francesco gazed spellbound at Miss de Veane. Her orange-coloured hair with black roots. Her black dress which was far too tight over the chest and hips, though it did finish up in a short pleated skirt so that she could dance, though how anyone could dance in white boots Francesco could not imagine. He thought of Jardek in his neat blouse and full trousers with his violin tucked under his chin and felt sick.
Poor Anna, he thought. Even though perhaps the teaching is good she cannot like working with this lady.

Quite soon Anna was back. Mabel had made her a very neat tunic and she looked charming in it with her plaits pinned up on top of her head. She went straight to the barre, held on to it and turned out her feet.

“No, dear,” said Miss de Veane. “We are not starting with exercises today. I have an enchaînement I want you to learn.”

Anna did not move.

“What for?”

Miss de Veane hesitated, it was clear she was not used to having her orders questioned, but eventually she decided to make Anna an exception.

“We, that is all the children in my little school, are going to try to raise enough money to buy a guide dog for a blind person. We are giving a dancing matinée. The ballet, which is half the programme, takes place in a fairy wood in which live many flowers. A fairy dances through the wood to wake the flowers. You would not mind being the fairy to help a blind person, would you?”

Anna did not move or change the position of her feet.

“Of course I would wish to help the blind. Always when we lived in a caravan we saw many, many blind and always Christopher gave money. But I will not dance this fairy, there is much work I must do before I can dance such a role.”

“That, I think,” said Miss de Veane, her hoarse voice sounding as if she had chipped ice in her throat, “is for me to decide.”

Anna shook her head.

“No – me. It has been hard for my brothers to earn the money for my lessons, but it has been earned so now it is I who decide what I will learn and I do not dance that solo.”

Miss de Veane would not have allowed any other pupil to speak to her like that. She was only allowing it now because she knew that in Anna she had something as precious as a jewel. If could be persuaded to dance she would dance well for she was incapable of dancing badly. Then one look at Anna dancing and every mum in the audience would think, if I sent my Sally or Marlene or Caroline to learn dancing she will dance like that. So, swallowing her temper which made her feel as if she was swallowing red hot coals, she said:

“I think you are forgetting the blind person, dear, who is waiting for a guide dog.”

Francesco did not know what a guide dog was so he was sure Anna did not. He got up and came over to Anna and Miss de Veane. He gave Miss de Veane a little bow.

“Always we have lived abroad where such dogs are not. Perhaps if you could tell Anna about such a dog she will understand.”

Miss de Veane had a desk in the corner of studio. She went to it and took out a folder. On the front was a picture of a splendid Alsatian wearing his special guide dog harness. She gave the folder to the children.

“Imagine, if you were blind, what it would mean to you to be looked after by a dog like that.”

Both the children were most impressed.

“We never had a dog,” said Francesco, “only our horse, he was called Togo. It would be wonderful to have a dog, Anna, to lead you if you were blind.”

But Anna was not to be moved by pity.

“It is good a blind person should have such a dog,” she agreed. “The blind we have known are looked after by the children of the family but maybe a dog is better. But my dancing will not buy a dog, some other pupil will dance the fairy. But because the dog is needed I will ask The Aunt to buy a ticket.”

Francesco and Miss de Veane exchanged looks.

Francesco’s look said: “I’m afraid it’s no good asking her but please go on teaching her for I do not know how to get her to London.” Miss de Veane’s look said, “See what you can do to make your sister dance, for if she refuses I shall not teach her and then what will you do?”

T
HE NEXT WEEK
was the half-term holiday. Wally had explained this to the Docksays and so had most of the children living in The Crescent, for of course walking to and from school nobody paid any attention to Cecil’s silly rules so they were all friends. The only rule the children kept was not accepting invitations for tea and television – that, in their own street, was asking for trouble.

“We’re goin’ away,” Wally had told Francesco. “But we’ll be back at the weekend so Mum says she’ll expect you Saturday and Sunday same as usual.

“Where are you going to?” Francesco asked.

“Me dad’s sister, my auntie that is. Lives in London, she does. It’s interestin’ where she hangs out because it’s near the river an’ I watches them loadin’ an unloadin’ the ships.”

Francesco, as Wally told him this, felt a horrible wave of
unhappiness sweep over him. In his mind he was in Turkey. Christopher was trying to get a curious light effect he said he could only find on the Bosphorus. Olga was having trouble with police who wanted the caravan moved. Olga could not give lessons because of arguing with the police, so he, Gussie and Anna had gone to the waterside and watched the ships. They had remembered they had some money so they had climbed into a boat which was going to the Golden Horn. At the end of their journey they had bought cakes and ice cream and made friends with a dancing bear and listened to the muezzin calling the faithful to prayer, a real proper muezzin – not one of those gramophone records which made Christopher swear. Nothing special happened. They took another boat home where they found Christopher having drinks with the police. It was just one of those days which, from England on a grey November morning, made a lump come into your throat.

“Me dad was saying maybe you three would see to Bess and the hens while we was away. Mum’ll show you where we keeps the key. It’s only Tuesday to Friday, for we’ll see to them Monday before we goes.”

All the children loved Wally’s farm so naturally Francesco agreed.

“It will be nice to have something to do for of course we will go nowhere.”

Other people beside Wally had plans for the half-term. Tom, looking rather like a scared white mouse wearing glasses, sidled up to Gussie in the morning break to whisper:

“Wilf wants to see you dinner time. Same place as before.”

Gussie was delighted. He had been disappointed in The Gang. He thought once he had joined them life would be full of excitement but nothing had happened at all. So at dinner time he almost ran to the senior classroom, only pausing to give a good dramatic version of the pass sign. Wilf, looking dirtier and more scruffy than usual, was sitting at his desk.

“Shut the door,” he told Gussie, “for what I got to say is special private.”

Gussie shut the door then stood expectantly beside Wilf waiting for orders.

“What I’m plannin’ will be a bit of fun like for the ’alfterm.”

Gussie was delighted, he was all in favour of fun.

“What am I to do?”

Wilf chose his words carefully.

“There’s many more what belongs to The Gang than what you see in this school. Some’s quite old – maybe twenty an’ more. Well, I was telling them of the way you brought your uncle’s gnome to the school and they wouldn’t believe it.”

“Well, it was difficult,” Gussie boasted, “and nobody but me ever knew why I took it to the school. You ought to have seen The Uncle. He was terribly angry and sent for the policemen.”

Wilf nodded.

“Well, next Tuesday will be dead easy, I’m bringing two of the leaders like to see the gnomes, they thought they’d paint them different colours.”

Gussie giggled.

“I cannot imagine The Uncle when he sees them changed. I think he could explode like a firework. How will you get in?”

“Now listen careful,” said Wilf, “for I don’t like sayin’ things twice. Can you find a way to stay awake?”

“I never tried,” Gussie admitted, “but I expect I could find a way.”

“You don’t ’ave to find no way for I’ve got it. You ties a long piece of string to your big toe and ’angs it out of the winder, then when we gets there I gives it a pull.”

“But how have you got into the garden?” Gussie asked.

“Same way as you did. Through the gate and over the twins’ wall.”

“When I am awake what do I do?” Gussie asked.

“You sneak down the stairs and comes out into the garden to ’elp paint the gnomes.”

“Through the lounge, you mean. This will be easy.”

“That’s right,” Wilf agreed. “I told you it was dead easy. Now let’s see you got it right.”

Gussie took a deep breath.

“Next Tuesday before I go to sleep I tie a long piece of string to my toe and hang the end out of the window. That is easy for my bed is by the window. In the night you pull the string, I wake up and creep very, very quietly down into the hall and through the lounge into the garden where you will be painting the gnomes.”

Wilf sounded pleased.

“You got it.”

“What colour shall the gnomes be?”

Wilf smiled his cunning smile.

“We’ve not gone into that, not yet. Suppose you choose.”

Gussie was flattered.

“I think bright blue would be nice.”

“Blue it is,” Wilf agreed. “And I don’t ’ave to remind you not one word of this to anybody.”

“Not one word,” Gussie agreed, “or…” and he drew a finger across his throat, and made a bloodthirsty noise.

Anna was not happy after the dancing class at which Francesco was present for she did not feel that he understood. Walking home he had told her how wonderful for a person who was blind it must be to have a dog. How perhaps just one dance would not hurt. He did not speak about Jardek in words for he hated to do, but underneath all he did say was: “If Jardek was here now I think he would understand.” On one point Anna found Francesco did agree with her. He thought Miss de Veane terrible.

“I wish,” he had said, “that it was possible to take you to the Madame Scarletti, but for this I think we must wait for S’William.”

Anna did not feel she could wait for anyone. If someone who was the best dancer in the world said they would teach her then nobody, not even The Uncle who thought to dance was a sin, could stop her from learning.

It was a terrible thing, Anna considered, for her to act on her own. This was something which before the earthquake
had never happened. But now it had to happen. Francesco and Gussie would not agree so she must go to London alone to see Madame Scarletti. She knew where the money was for the fare. Under the paper beside S’William’s address. Next week when there was a holiday she would take the money and, carrying her shoes and tunic in a bag, she would visit this Madame Scarletti and ask her to watch her work.